


Reflecting

by lottieland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-04-30
Packaged: 2018-01-21 07:55:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1543349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lottieland/pseuds/lottieland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy looks back on his time since the wizarding war and reviews the changes in himself, paying gratitude to one person in particular...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflecting

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfiction! Hope you like it!  
> Lottie xx

Pureblood.

Over time the word has come to mean less and less to me. I once associated it with power, riches and royalty. Now, even those words have become monstrous in their own rights.

No one should have power over anyone. Nor flaunt their riches and taunt others for their lack of them. Royalty is such a meaningless word to me now, my description would include many words that would make my mother turn over in her grave if she heard them come from my lips.

My experiences of the war have changed my views on many things, but most of all my thoughts on blood status. My father brainwashed me from an early age to believe I was better because I came from a family consisting only of wizards and witches. Over the years, I have come to see just how misguided I was in believing his ancient principles. My eyes have now been opened, if you excuse the muggle phrase, to the real monsters in this world. For they were not the non-magical folk, as I was raised to believe. No, the real savages were the tyrants themselves.

It takes a huge amount of courage to see the monster in yourself, and even more to tackle the beast within. Slytherins are not known for their bravery; that is favoured to be a Gryffindor trait. But now, with my eyes open, I see the truth. We are not defined by our house and the characteristics associated with them, but by who we are as an individual, and the choices we make. The house system, along with the idea of blood status, is an outdated concept. Once I was able to see this, I harnessed the courage I now knew I had hidden the entire time, and forced myself to see the truth of my words and actions.

However, by this time, it was too late. The war was over, Potter had won, and I was faced with a list of charges a mile long. If Granger hadn’t stepped in, I would be well on the way to insanity, locked away in Azkaban by now.

Granger. The name that has haunted me all these years, the one who started my questioning of my father’s beliefs, was the one to set me free of the punishment I was sure I deserved. A part of me still feels like I want to atone for my crimes, but the larger part of me stops the thought as soon as it enters my head. No, I tell myself. That would be an insult to what Granger was fighting for. If she was able to see the good in me, even when I couldn’t, then I must prove to her that she made the right decision. I am in debt to her, and not even a lifetime of being a slave to her every need would make me feel like I had redeemed myself enough. Not that she would want that punishment for me, with her bloody S.P.E.W. campaign and all…

But yes, it was her… Hermione… that made me question everything, in the beginning.

Mudblood.

Over time the word has come to mean more and more to me. Once, I may have thrown the insult around without thinking of the consequences of the word. But that was when my father ruled my own views. But I am free now. I am free to believe what I want to believe without someone else’s input. Free to say what I want to say without having someone put the words in my mouth. And now I am free, I choose never to say that word again. It would be an insult to the girl who saved me if I said the word with malice ever again, even when not in her presence.

There is a muggle saying that I came across that gave me the final push to change my ways for good. When I first heard the phrase, I was sat in a bar in muggle London late at night. There were only a few people in the bar, stragglers, addicts to drink, the usual. I am ashamed to say that I myself was quite partial to a drink every so often… Ok, I tell a lie. I was not dealing with my sins very well immediately after I was released from the holding cells at the Ministry. So, I took my escape in any way I could, losing myself to the alcohol and the anonymity of being in the muggle world, where I was fairly certain no one would spit in my direction if I was recognised. 

As I was brooding in a darkened corner of the bar, two drunks stumbled in, holding each other up, obviously just arriving from another tavern down the street. To be honest, I was in no better shape myself. They clumsily made their way to sit on the stools at the bar, a few attempts made before they managed to finally perch on the seats. And they immediately started conversing loudly. At the time, I was annoyed. They were sitting far too close and disrupting my façade of calm. Then, one turned to the other and said the few words that would give me the strength to change.

“Steve… ya know *hic* Stevie ma boy! If I could go back in time and do things over, I would.”

This drunken statement snapped me out of the depression and sorry state I was in. I thought to myself, “Actually, if I could go back in time and tell my younger self to wake up and stop being such a prat, I wouldn’t.” And this thought surprised me, because up until that point, I was sure I didn’t want my life to go the way it had. But then I realised, I wouldn’t be the person I was today without my dark past. I would probably have let my father rule my life for much longer, and Merlin knows where I could be right now. Granger saved me for a reason, and it was time to make sure I don’t waste my second chance. 

Therefore, I sobered up. After taking a few weeks out of the country in France to clear my head, I came back to England. I sold the Manor and bought myself the small and comforting home I had always wanted as a child. I started my business then from scratch, working hard for the first time in my life for something I could set my sights on. And for the first time in my life, I was making myself happy, rather than relying on others to do the job for me. 

A couple of years later, I ran into Granger again. In Flourish and Blotts, of all places. She had a stack of books she had just purchased balanced precariously on her forearms as she tried to manoeuvre her way out of the crowded shop. I just happened to turn around at the wrong, or right, moment, causing her to crash into me, sending volumes flying in all directions. Immediately, I start apologising, and bend down to help them up again, but trail off once I notice who I bumped in to. I help her rise to her feet and drop her hand, unable to take my eyes off her face. 

“Malfoy?”

I realise I have been staring. I clear my throat, having the decency to look embarrassed, “Draco, please.”

Now it’s her turn to stare. I raise an eyebrow and she mimics my faint blush from before. “Sorry, Draco.” It’s almost as if she is testing out my name on her tongue. I’m surprised by the way my given name sounds in her voice, and by how much I like it. Blinking, I try to clear my head to think of something to say, but she beats me to it, as always. “So, what brings you here?”

In response I hold up the book I planned on buying.

“Oh, I guess that should have been obvious…” she stumbles over her words and I smile inwardly. Ahh, how I’ve missed the bumbling bookworm before me. “Well, I’d better be, uhh, going…” She summons her books back into her arms with an impressive piece of wandless magic. “Bye then… Draco.”

She tries to hurry past me but I stop her with a hand around her upper arm. “Listen, Hermione?” I say her name as a question, asking her permission to use it. She nods. “Hermione…” I trail off again, having no idea where I am going with this statement. Wow Draco, you knock her flat on her back, stare at her, then stop her from leaving what is quite obviously a very uncomfortable conversation for her. Way to go.

“Sorry, I’m kind of in a rush, Ginny is waiting outside for me…” I nod and let her arm go, and she continues to make her way through the crowd. I mentally kick myself. What was that?! Did you just momentarily lose your mind?! You had one chance to say all the things you’ve wanted to say for years, and you blew it!

Before I know it, I’m making my way out of the shop after her.

“Granger, Hermione, wait!” I shout, desperate to not part ways on such an awkward note. I get to the doorway of the shop and am stopped by the barrier, as I am still holding the book I still haven’t bought yet. Damn it… “Hermione!” Seeing her back merging in with the crowd, I drop the book and run after her, nearly knocking over the display of owls outside the shop next door. Finally, I lurch and grab her shoulder, and she whirls around on alert, relaxing once she notices it’s me. “Hermione, sorry, I couldn’t quite find the words back there…” I say, my face reddening after realising how ridiculous I must have looked barging down Diagon Alley. 

“Well, that’s a bit funny, seeing as we were in a bookshop.” She smiles faintly, and I blink stupidly, realising a little too late that she’s made a joke. Shaking my head, I prepare to launch into the speech that I had been mulling over for years in case this moment came one day. But instead, I found myself asking something I never thought I would ask Hermione Granger.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Needless to say, she looked as shocked as I felt at the suddenness of the question.

“Malfoy?” Still waiting for an answer to my unexpected question, I glance towards the new voice, and recognise it as a heavily pregnant Ginny Weasley. Actually, that would be Potter now, wouldn’t it?

“Ginevra.” I nod, vaguely noting the look of surprise on her face when I don’t refer to her as “she-weasel”. Nervously, I turn back to look at Hermione, who still has the same shocked expression etched to her features. “Come on Granger,” I tease, to cover up my sudden bought of nerves, “I won’t bite.”

After a few more seconds of hesitation,

“Okay, Malf-Draco, I will.” 

To this day I still can’t believe she took a chance on me, the ex-Death Eater and her personal tormentor of six years. But, for whatever reason, she did. Perhaps it was because of that spark of goodness she saw in me all those years ago, or maybe my complete change in character. Who knows?

Now, 12 years later, I have three beautiful children and a wife that means the world to me. At first I was anxious about becoming a father, not having the best example to go off. However, I think in the end, I did alright. At least my wife seems to think so.

As for Hermione Granger? I haven’t seen her in 8 years. But everything is well.

Because she’s now Hermione Malfoy.

And, as the muggles say, the history is rest.

Or something along those lines.


End file.
